


Pink

by roomeight



Series: This Is Hardcore [2]
Category: Blur
Genre: Britpop, Dirty Talk, Fetish, Gramon, M/M, Sexting, blur slash, blurslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roomeight/pseuds/roomeight
Summary: Damon's always working, and Graham tries to convince him to play hooky over text message.





	Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I don't have anything to say about this other than I wrote this for Pat (glowinginahuddle on Tumblr), because we've had way too many conversations about the whole Damon/Graham clothes-swapping thing and, well... what can I say? Also, the kink (Florida) in this is purposely funny/tongue in cheek, just wanted to mention that.
> 
> *Full disclosure*: This is another PWP (porn without plot) fic which is a part of my ongoing fetish series called This Is Hardcore (fics not for the faint of heart, as Jarvis might say). That said, if you are looking for G-rated Gramon, tread no further: consider yourself duly warned. D: Thank you for reading, as always and for kudos and comments. xx Also, sorry for this. Sort of. Lol.

 

** 

 

 

 **9:06 am:** I send the first photo. It’s relatively innocent, I think, posing in front of the bathroom mirror to take a standard “just woke up” selfie. Nothing spectacular. I smile, but only slightly. I don’t want to encourage him too much.

 **9:30 am:** I send the second photo, the one I take after I finish my morning wank. It’s not much, just a full shot of myself from above the bed with my right hand slipping just underneath the sheets, and a short message that reads: thinking of you.

 **9:45 am** : my phone vibrates, and Damon’s incoming text is only three words: 30 minutes. Skype.

 **10:20 am:** I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself. I debate whether or not to put a t-shirt on, deliberating if I want to make him work for it this time. I pick up my phone and hammer in a short text: you really should get Snapchat, you know

The messenger on my computer dings. An icon of Damon’s face squeezed into a ridiculous and dorky expression stares back at me from the screen. I smirk, and press accept.

“Good morning sunshine.”

“Good morning.”

Damon’s voice rumbles back at me, still dark and scratchy from sleep. “I see you’ve been busy today.”

I smirk. “Yeah. Very productive.” I answer, running a hand through my wet scalp. “And you?”

“Not so lucky, I’m afraid,” Damon says in a small voice and drags a hand across the scruff on his chin. Round blue eyes look survey me up and down from the other side of the screen, and I force back a smile. I can’t help but stare back. Damon’s unshaven, morning hair sticking in unkempt tufts and he still looks handsome. _Bastard._

“It’s been a while,” Damon laments, and I can tell that he’s holding back by the way he passes his hand over his mouth.

“A month.” I return, biting down on my lower lip. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“No, I've just been...busy, you know,” Damon mumbles, and the spark in his eyes dwindles a bit. "But you know what they say—"

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder,” I finish.

"Mhmm."

“Busy Albarn.” I muse and uncross my legs. The towel around my waist falls a few inches.

“Are you wearing pants?”

I shake my head. ”Nope.”

“Are you just wearing a towel with a t-shirt?” Damon asks, looking as though he’s on the verge of laughing.

“Yeah.” I counter, smirking.

“Why?”

“Well I have to be modest, don’t I?”

Damon nods his head, then leans back on the couch and stretches his arms out. “Modest Coxon,” he muses in a scratchy voice, then leaning forward looks up at me through his long lashes. “How about you take off some of that modesty for me?”

I purse my lips. “You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”

“I will. Later,” Damon promises, and a broad grin stretches across his face like spilled ink.

I raise both eyebrows, then lean back into my chair. “I already sent you plenty,” I say, indignant. “What about me?”

“Oh.” Damon smiles, drawing his hand across his chin again. “I suppose that’s true. You want me to send you pictures? I don’t know...”

“You don’t have to,” I say, and lean toward the keyboard end the call.

“No, wait, hang on a minute -” Damon protests, apparently worried. “Okay.” He nods, then shakes his head. “I’ll send you photos.”

“That’s more like it,” I say, and smile.

“One thing though.”

“What?”

“You need to take your shirt off.”

I raise an eyebrow. “For what?”

Damon looks away. “You know…”

“No, I don’t know.”

“So I can, you know…” Damon says in a low voice, and in the small amount of light, I can see that his face has flushed.

“You know, for a creative person you have a surprising lack of imagination.” I sigh and then using both hands pull my white t-shirt up and over my shoulders. I shiver as the cold air touches my bare skin.

“That’s much better,” Damon smirks. “You look like yourself now.”

“You mean I look like how you want me to look.” I counter, smiling and throwing my t-shirt across the room.

“God, I miss you.”

“Then come over.”

“I can’t.” Damon frowns. “I’ve got to be in the recording studio in an hour.”

“Well, that’s a terrible excuse.”

“I know.”

“So ditch your terrible excuse and come play hooky with me.”

“You know I’d love to Gra, but…” Damon says, sounding both equally pained and measured.

“But?”

“I thought…”

“You thought what?” I lower my chin, giving him a suspicious look. Finally, a light of realization crosses my face. “Oh.”

Damon bites down on his lower lip, hard.

“You want to watch me wank, is that it?”

Damon forces an involuntary smile back at me and his eyes flash. “Well, I mean… those pictures.”

“I think you’re assuming a lot, Albarn.” I tease, doing my best to keep a straight face. “I’m not that type of girl.”

“I know. I’m just saying...if you’re selling, I’m buying.”

I stretch my limbs out cat-like, purposely making sure to spread my legs wider so that my towel falls off my right knee.

“Well, I’ve got things to do, Damon. Places to be.”

“Really?” Damon protests, his eyes now glued to my bare knee. “I can’t fathom what’s more important than you taking that towel off right now.”

“Hmm,” I muse, crossing my legs. I cock an eyebrow. “You sound desperate. How long has it been since your last one?”

“A week.”

“A week,” I echo in an unbelieving voice. The idea of it was hard to fathom. “Have you been self-flagellating yourself at night for penance too?”

Damon sighs, “I know. I told you, I’ve been busy.” He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. It’s enough to push me over the edge.

“Well,” I declare, moving to unwrap the towel around my waist. “Let’s see if we can fix that.” I pause. “Although I have one condition.”

“What?”

“No video of you. Just me, and just chat.”

“What, you mean like a webcam service?” Damon laughs. “Do I have to pay you?”

“Exactly.” I tongue the side of my cheek and brandish a coy smile. “And no, you couldn’t afford me. I just don’t want to see your face while I’m doing it.”

I move toward the keyboard.

“W-wait—how am I going to talk to you?”

“Through the chat. Or text. I guess it depends on how many hands you have free.” I tease and reach for the keyboard again. “Goodbye.”

“Wait—”

The screen goes black, and all I can see is my reflection staring back at me. I type into the chat box: _can you still see me?_

Feeling impatient, I watch Damon type for at least twenty seconds before he sends just a single word and an emoticon: _yes… :(_

I type back: _good._

I know that I have him in the palm of my hand now. Exactly where I want him.

I lean back in my chair, spreading my legs wide and trailing my fingers down the front of my briefs. I’m not hard yet. That’s a problem.

I lean forward and type into the chat box: _tell me things_

_you’re gorgeous_

_Too easy. You’ll have to do better than that._

I watch as Damon types, and then an image message comes through. It’s a photo of him, from the waist down, his right hand pressed against the burgeoning and bowed hardness between his legs. A short message follows: _wishing you were here_

 _flattered,_ I type, smiling, and tease my hand over my inner thigh.

_do you still have the pink shirt I bought you?_

_what pink shirt?_

_you know what one_

I stare back at the chatbox, and finally, Damon's subtle reference hits me. I type tentatively into the chatbox.

_...florida?_

_yes_

_god no. I'm not wearing that_

_yes_

_that thing is ugly as hell_

_I want to see it on you, please_

I purse my lips and smile. _You pervert._

I stand up and move toward my closet. It takes me a good minute or so, but eventually, I find it, buried at the very back of my wardrobe under a stack of clothes.

I stretch the over-sized t-shirt over my shoulders and look down at the cheesy Minnie Mouse screen print with the word ‘Florida’ written at the very top. I cringe.

_Are you happy now? pervert._

_Yes. (: That color looks good on you._

_You're a dirty perverted bastard you know._

_I am, and if I were there I would do so many things to you right now_

_Mmm, what things? Tell me._

_Your little twink arse wouldn’t have made it out of the shower_

Hmm, I’m the twink now? _I thought that was you._

I brush my fingers over the front of my red briefs.

I watch him type for what feels like forever, and then finally, I see a response: _I can be...if you want me to._

I feel my throat tighten. I type carefully into the chat box. _Roll over then, twink_

_I don’t want to, not yet_

I smile. _I almost forgot that’s your favorite part_

_I’m hurt._

_What do you want me to do?_

_take it out._

I lean back again and hooking one thumb under the inside of my briefs I pull myself out. My cock releases itself with a happy bob as I see him typing again.

_Much better. Are you thinking about me yet?_

I give myself a few long, fluid strokes. _Yes_

_Which part?_

_All of it, lips, tongue, teeth…_

_How does it feel?_

I toss my head back, sliding my fingers up and down my shaft. It was getting a little harder to type now.

I pick up my phone with my free hand and open up a text: _what do you think?_

_It appears I need to suck you harder_

I bite down on my upper lip and smirk back at the camera.

Another message pops up on my screen: _what are you imagining?_

I swallow and prop both of my feet up a little higher so he can see me better.

 _Your lips._ I type.

_Where are they?_

_At the base of my cock_

_And?_

_You’re lying on the couch, and I’m above you_

_and?_

_And I’m holding your head in place, fucking that beautiful mouth of yours._

_And?_

_You love it._

_Of course, I do._

I begin fisting myself harder. I can feel my face flushing as I think about his hot tongue on my cock.

My phone vibrates.

_You look close_

_you think?_

_I want all of it_

_All of it?_

_Every last drop_

I open my mouth, biting back a moan and arching my neck back as I come, spilling warm over onto my hand.

Letting the afterglow settle, I reach for a towel to clean myself up quickly, making a point not to look at the camera. My phone vibrates.

_I’m coming over._

I type back into the box. _I know :)_

 

 

 *

The end.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
